


It's too late (and it's not worth saving)

by Trash



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, Demon!Dean, M/M, Prompt: Torture, season 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 05:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4864463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam had thought finding Dean would be enough to save him. He was wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's too late (and it's not worth saving)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Doomed by BMTH  
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.

Sam thought finding Dean would be enough. The way Dean's voice had pierced through Lucifer's hold on his conscious and shone light on a dark place long enough to throw himself into the pit, Sam's voice would make Dean snap out of it. 

Only not. And Sam isn't sure why he is surprised, because he really can't remember the last time anything went the way he planned it. 

He sees Dean across the parking lot and his heart soars with hope. Then he is flung backwards into a wall and darkness presses in all around him. The last thing he remembers is Dean standing over him, a smile on his face. 

Cole's idea of torturing him for information was tactless, and consisted mostly of well-aimed punches and the very real threat of a gun full of rounds. Dean, he learned from the best. And Sam isn't sure that he will get through this. 

The plastic ties securing his wrists to the arms of the metal chair bite into his skin. His feet are locked in place by a thick chain which is attached to the concrete below him.

"Like it?" Dean asks from the other side of the room. He pushes himself away from the wall he is leaning on and stalks toward Sam slowly. "Belongs to Crowley. Doubt he's ever stepped foot in here, though. He's got us to do his dirty work."

"You're not like them, Dean. Demon or not-"

Dean is in front of him suddenly, cold hands on his forearms and face inches from Sam's own. "I'm not just a demon," Dean hisses, green eyes giving way to jet black. "I'm a Knight of Hell."

Sam's stomach drops. "Hand picked by the King himself? Huh? Like an assistant manager? You can't spell assistant without 'ass'."

Dean grabs Sam's thumb and tugs, hard, pulling it from its socket. The pain is immediate and he arches his back, head thrown back as an animal-like cry escapes him. His entire hand feels like it's on fire. "I don't work for that fuckmook," Dean says, stepping back and folding his arms across his chest. 

Sam grits his teeth. "Dean," he groans, "come on man. You're better than this."

"That's just the thing, Sammy. I'm not. I'm better like this. Stronger. I can do what I want. I'm not hung up on being a good guy or a bad guy. I'm not being dragged down by my pathetic self esteem. I've always been a monster - now I'm just embracing it."

Sam shakes his head. "No. No. You're not a monster."

"Oh? I've been fucking my brother for ten years. That's pretty monstrous, right?"

Sam shifts uncomfortably. "You make it sound so-"

"Dirty? Filthy? Fucked up? That's because it is, Sammy." Dean moves closer and straddles Sam's lap. "It is. It's probably worse than the rest of the shit we've done. The innocent people who have died. Collateral damage, you know? But this?" He brushes Sam's neck with his lips, "this is the worst."

Sam shivers uncontrollably. "Dean," he murmurs. "Please."

"Please what?" Dean grabs Sam's index finger when he doesn't get an answer and yanks it cruelly, the bones snapping audibly. Sam roars in pain, writhing to get his brother's weight off him. Dean clings on, thighs squeezing around Sam's own. 

"Please stop? Please keep going? What, huh?"

Sam doesn't know what to say. He closes his eyes. 

The cold metal of Dean's knife presses into the side of his cheek, splitting the skin slowly. The pain is like a fine line of fire, and Dean laps at the wound with his tongue. "No, no. You don't get to go to your happy place and pretend this isn't happening. That's not how this works. I want you here, front and centre." Dean pushes himself away and starts circling Sam's chair slowly, trailing his knife over any skin he can reach.

"Being human, all those emotions? It's bullshit. They do nothing but tie you down. Being like this? I don't have to hurt anymore, Sammy. I don't have to love with all my heart anymore."

Sam stares straight ahead. 

"You always wanted it, but not if it came with complications. Not if I told you I loved you." Stopping directly behind him, Dean plants both hands on Sam's shoulders, the blade close enough to his throat to make him hold his breath. "Well, now you can have what you want - empty, easy sex. No strings. It's all yours."

Sam closes his eyes and swallows hard. "That's not what I want, not what I ever wanted."

Dean moves again, pressing the blade to the inside of Sam's arm. The skin splits and gives way to blood. "Liar." The blade presses deeper, and Sam thinks of arteries and veins and tendons. "You wanted convenient. Well," he steps back and gestures to himself with the bloodied blade, "here I am."

Sam wonders if this is what he was like to be around when he was soulless, this empty shell that looked and sounded like the real deal. "I can cure you, Dean. I can make this stop. Please, just come home with me."

Dean's eyes shutter black and he bares his teeth. "Cure me? Oh Sammy, get over yourself."

He lunges forward quickly and stabs the blade into Sam's abdomen. The pain chokes him, the horror at the look in his brother's obsidian eyes making it impossible to look away. He can taste blood on the back of his tongue, can feel the blade grind against his ribs as Dean pulls it out slowly. 

Dean reaches out and runs his thumb over Sam's bottom lip. It comes back dark red and glistening with blood. He smiles, and it's almost affectionately, as darkness presses in around Sam's vision. And as he loses consciousness he thinks of all the other ways this could have ended, and none of them include Dean's placid smile.


End file.
